Winter of Our Discontent
by Nimue26
Summary: Based 5 years before the movie: When a scouting party of Saxons arrives, Arthur is sent to take care of the situation...unfortunetly one of his Knights gets caught in the crossfire. (Bad summary, bad title...a little help with both is much appreciated!R
1. Chapter One

Author's Note: Hello! This is my first attempt at a fan fiction....so please go easy on me!! Just a general warning, there is violence in this chapter, so if you don't like violence...then I don't know how you could have watched that movie, because it was preeeeeetty violent! Anyway, just a little heads up! This story is set about 5 years before the movie...I might be adding some more knights into the story who will obviously be killed off before the story is finished...I have some ideas for characters, but if you have any of your own that you'd like to see in action, lemme know-I can't guarantee that I'll be putting ANY new characters in, but there is a chance I might, so I'd appreciate any ideas at all .  
If you do enjoy this story, please let me know and I will continue to write chapters.....I always like a little support and some constructive criticism never hurt anyone.....so please let me know what you think! Enjoy!  
  
Chapter One  
  
The morning it happened dawned cold and grey-the first signs of the brutal winter to come. It was the kind of weather that made you want to stay deep within the heat of your blankets, and that made you jerk awake once you twitched your blankets away. The horses pranced in the chill of the morning, puffs of cool air dancing out from their nostrils and mouths, the leather of the saddles creaking as the animals shifted uncomfortably in a vain attempt to warm themselves. Tightening the girth of his saddle, Arthur surveyed the surrounding trees for a sign of life. Nothing moved save the occasional flutter of an owl coming back to sleep in the early morning rays of purple light. He finished with his riding preparations and rubbed his gloved hands together briskly, trying to circulate warmth into his frozen extremities while he walked back to the camp site.  
  
His knights were sitting around the campfire in various levels of alertness. Dagonet was running a sharpening stone along the edge of his long sword, the steady sound lulling a half-slumbering Bors into an even deeper stupor. Galahad crouched next to the dying fire, his hands faced palm forward toward the glowing embers. Gawain sat behind him eating the last remains of a piece of dried meat and then picking his teeth clean with a small dagger he pulled from his belt.  
  
"Are you ready to make way Lord?" Arthur turned to see Lancelot looking at him inquiringly. The cold of the morning cast a bluish tinge on his sharp cheekbones, giving him a pallid, somber look. He coughed suddenly and Arthur frowned.  
  
"When did you become sick my friend?" Lancelot swallowed hard and waved away his comment.  
  
"I'm not sick. Just a little sore after sleeping on the frozen ground." He smiled slyly, "Need a girl to warm my bed again..." He coughed again, giving him pause, and cleared his throat. "The cold must have burned my lungs while I slept," He looked up at the concern on Arthur's face and grinned. "I'll be fine!" He clapped Arthur on the back "You have more important things to worry about-I trust you haven't forgotten about the rumors?" Arthur frowned again and strode back over to his horse, followed by Lancelot.  
  
"Indeed I haven't....but I am hoping they're no more then the usual peasant's myth." He mounted and watched as Lancelot lengthened his stirrups. His friend looked up at him as he worked.  
  
"And if they prove to be more then just a myth?"  
  
"Then I guess we have a problem..." Arthur turned back toward the campsite. "Dagonet! Rouse Bors! We have a long day ahead of us!" The other men laughed as Bors grumbled incoherently after being shaken roughly awake, and they all slowly moved towards their horses.  
  
"What's the use of being up this early?" Bors groaned as he dragged his feet away from the warmth of the campfire. He groaned when he realized that his was the only horse unprepared and lifted his saddle with a grunt. "Damn peasants lie about everything....scared of their own shadows they are..." As the men mounted their horses, another rider came galloping in to the small forest enclosure that was their campsite. He pulled up in a cloud of frosted leaves and held out his arm for the hawk that swooped down from the steadily brightening sky.  
  
"Any news Tristan? What lies ahead of us?" Arthur asked his scout who had risen before any of them to ride ahead.  
  
"News? Yes Lord, I have news." He stroked the hawk's head and whispered a few words to it.  
  
"Well out with it you bloody idiot..." Bors rumbled as he heaved himself onto his horse.  
  
"It seems," Tristan continued as if he had not heard Bors at all, "that the rumors are true."  
  
"They are?" Lancelot asked with an undertone of disbelief.  
  
"What did you see?" Arthur enquired sharply.  
  
"A raiding party...of Saxons." The men swore but Arthur remained silent, his face hardening into grim lines.  
  
"How many?" He asked  
  
"40." Tristan answered. "I believe it is just a scouting party, it's not very far inland..."  
  
"What do we do Lord?" Galahad asked. "Do we fight them?"  
  
"Course we fight them!" Bors scoffed. "Don't want bloody Saxons wandering around freely, do we!?"  
  
"40 against 7?" Gawain stated the odds grimly "We couldn't win." Arthur nodded his agreement,  
  
"We should ride back for reinforcements-"  
  
"We might be able to win." Tristan interrupted in his normally cool tone of voice, causing them all to look at him in surprise. "They seemed young and inexperienced-enough to scare the locals, but easily beatable in battle." They all paused and thought about that for a moment, the silence finally broken by Bors's grunt of approval.  
  
"I say we fight-get 'em out while there's still only a few of them." Arthur looked at him, and then at the rest of his men. Dagonet, Gawain and Tristan seemed content with Bors's words, the three men content to fight when fighting was needed. Galahad looked wary, but then he always disliked mass amounts of bloodshed and hated even more the fact that his own blood ties forced him to do it. Lancelot seemed disinterested in the argument, his abnormally pale face merely looked to Arthur for his decision.  
  
"Rome has asked me-asked us-to try and maintain order in Britain." He said thoughtfully looking at his men. "In my opinion, invading Saxons will disrupt order. We will ride to where their encampment is and then decide on our next move." His men nodded and then turned their horses, spurring them on towards Hadrian's Wall.  
  
As they rode, grey clouds rolled in; dark, thick and threatening. By the time they reached the wall a light snow began to fall. Arthur gave the order to dismount and they led their horses into a thicket of trees, nearly twenty feet from the cold stone wall that separated north from south. They looked around warily, knowing the Woads sometimes hunted close to the wall, but nothing betrayed any sign of human life. They sat in silence for a while and then finally, in the frozen stillness of the valley beyond the wall, they heard the steady thump of many feet moving at once and the Saxons marched into sight.  
  
Tristan was right. There were many young men within the army's ranks, men who thirsted for adventure, glory and riches-all of which they could capture on the end of a sword. They were dressed in the typical Saxon fashion, using animal skins instead of armor, which not only stopped a sword blow, but kept a man warm as well. They looked formidable from a distance, but on closer inspection Arthur saw that many of the men lacked proper fighting equipment-in fact, only a few had a helmet or a shield. The men who bore these protections were obviously the commanders, and the other men who lacked them seemed confident that their sword or axe would protect them from any attack that might happen.  
  
Arthur looked back at his men. Most seemed ready and eager for the fight, when his gaze fell upon Lancelot, his eyes widened in surprise. His friend's face was even more drawn and pale then it had been before, though now it seemed worse because of the dark circles surrounding his eyes. He was staring at the Saxon army with a grim expression on his face and Arthur saw him suppress a shudder-not so much from fear he guessed, but from the cold.  
  
"Well?" Bors enquired softly. All the other knights turned to look at Arthur.  
  
"We ride against them." They nodded their acceptance and rose to mount their horses. Arthur placed a hand on Lancelot's shoulder. "You're staying here." Lancelot gave him a stunned look.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"You're not fit." Arthur answered firmly and then watched the anger spark behind his friend's dark eyes.  
  
"I'm fine!" He said harshly and then tried to move past Arthur to get to his horse. Arthur placed a hand upon his chest and pushed him back again.  
  
"No, you're not."  
  
"You need me!" Lancelot said pushing his commander's hand away. "We're already outnumbered! I'm not going to let you ride against 40 men with only five men at your side!" Arthur looked at him steadily, his mouth set in a determined line. Lancelot looked at the others who had watched the exchange with little expression on their faces. They knew Lancelot was right, that they needed all the help they could get, but who were they to speak against their commander? Lancelot looked back to Arthur and spoke more calmly. "Arthur, please, I'm fine." Arthur looked at him a moment longer and then sighed.  
  
"Fine." Lancelot grinned and swiftly moved past Arthur to mount his horse.  
  
"You shouldn't worry so much." He said once he was settled in his saddle. "I promise, I'm fine!"  
  
"Let's hope you stay that way." Arthur said, mounting his own horse. He looked at his other men, all of which seemed relieved that Lancelot would still be riding with them. "Ride hard." Arthur said. "Aim for the ones who don't have a shield." And with that he charged out of the forest enclosure and onto the field where the Saxons had finished clamoring over the wall.  
  
The battle erupted into a bloody chaos as soon as the horses broke through the trees and into the group of men. The Saxons were caught by surprise, but were quick to react to the attack. Despite their lack of proper war gear, they were still skilled with their weaponry and no sooner had the battle begun, then one of Arthur's horses was brought down. It was Galahad's mount that collapsed to the ground after having its rear hamstring cut by a blade and no sooner had the horse fell then Galahad was up, his sword drawn. The Saxons surrounded the grounded man, but he cut them back with a few swift strokes of his sword and when they proved too much, he turned to see Gawain standing beside him, his mace deep in the chest of a Saxon.  
  
"Couldn't leave you alone down here could I?" He said to Galahad with a grin and the two men turned back-to-back, cutting through the enemy with a ferocious speed.  
  
On the other side of the field Bors had also gotten off his horse voluntarily, preferring to fight on the ground. He was yelling an incoherent war cry, slashing at the surprised Saxons with the razor sharp blades on his knuckles. Beside him was Dagonet, who had also dismounted, and who was grimly cutting down men with a battleaxe. He turned to see a Saxon rush at Bors from behind, a sword raised high to swing down on Bors's unprotected head. He opened his mouth to yell a warning to his friend, but before the words had left his mouth, an arrow flew by him and landed with a thud in the Saxon's neck. The man stopped his charge, lifted a hand to the arrow shaft, and then collapsed on the ground. Dagonet turned to see Tristan pull another arrow from his quiver and shoot down another man. He saw Dagonet and smiled.  
  
"Should of let him kill him..." He called and then shrugged and rode deeper into the battle, abandoning his bow and pulling out his lethal long sword.  
  
In the middle of the fray Arthur sat atop his horse and swung down the legendary Excalibur. His red cloak was dyed darker with spattered blood and yet he still held strong and cut back the enemy with frightening speed. The Saxons grew scared of his efficiency and fled before him, seeking a more painless opponent, and in the few seconds of safety this allotted him, he looked to see how his knights were faring. And in those few seconds, he saw Lancelot fall.  
  
Lancelot had also gotten off his horse and for the first few minutes of battle, he used his two handed swords to the fear of all who stood before him. He had just cut down a snarling beast of a man, who had lunged at him with a heavy broadsword, when suddenly the world shifted in front of him. He swayed on his feet and then stumbled back a few steps, doubling over and blinking his eyes rapidly, trying to ease the dizziness. His vision cleared for a moment and then the ground seemed to shift again, this time more violently. He dropped to one knee and felt his hands go numb, causing him to lose his grip on his swords. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and desperately tried to hold on to consciousness. Just before his world went black, he felt the cold steel tip of a sword on his throat and heard a voice growl,  
  
"That was my brother you just sent to the Otherworld..."  
  
And then he collapsed. 


	2. Chapter Two

Author's Note: OH MY GOODNESS!!! Thank you SOOOOOO much to everyone who reviewed!!!!!!! I never knew emails could make a person feel so good, but now my eyes have been opened!! You all had a hand in making this chapter come so soon, but I guess this has to go out especially to Ivory Novelist who gave me a personal endorsement in her story Gentle Apocalypse!! Hehe that was fun for me (to say the least!)...but ALL of the people who reviewed are very much beloved by me....there is individual responses to everyone at the bottom of this chapter.

Oh, and about this chapter....I'm sorry it's so short, but its crazy busy up here in Canada-this weekend is Thanksgiving for us so I have been put to work cleaning...blah...and also studying for midterms....also blah.....so yes, I was only able to squeeze this little bit in...but hopefully you'll still enjoy! Again, read and review---I am loving the comments everyone is making! AND THANK YOU AGAIN!!!

And now on with the show!!

Chapter Two

He watched with mounting horror as his friend crumpled into a heap at the feet of the Saxon. Suddenly the world stopped moving and time stood still for one long, sickening moment. All echoes of the battle flew from his ears, and the loud hammer of his heart in his chest over whelmed his mind. He felt himself gasp for breath, felt his legs move to urge his horse forward-and then everything snapped back into place. The sounds of the bleak morning rushed back to greet him like a tidal wave; metal clashing on metal; the groans of dying men calling to unseen mothers, children, wives; bloodcurdling screams of rage as men fought for their lives in the heat of battle. All of this whirled around him, and he heard it, but saw none of it. He eyes were trained on the Saxon standing above Lancelot-the man who now held his friend's life in his hands.

He tried to spur his horse into action, but the Saxons, seeing he was distracted, had suddenly rushed toward him and were now attacking him with renewed strength. Letting out a yell of frustration, he frantically cut them back, trying desperately to carve a path through them towards his fallen man. Pausing for a moment after plunging his sword hilt-deep into the chest of a man below him, he glanced up and saw Tristan fighting close to him on the ground. As always he was moving with liquid motion, his lethal long sword swinging low and fluid before moving in for the kill.

"Tristan!" He yelled while cutting down another man who foolishly sought to pull him off his horse during his moment of respite. Tristan's eyes flicked over to his commander before he swung his sword high and brought it down in a deadly arc, cutting his opponent down through his shoulder. He pulled his sword out quickly and turned towards Arthur, who called out, "Lancelot's wounded!" and he pointed to where he had last seen his friend. Tristan gave him a curt nod and began to run over to where Arthur had pointed.

The Saxons had begun to thin out, so Tristan found that he could move quickly over to where Arthur thought Lancelot might be. But as soon as he had reached the general area, a horn echoed across the valley. The Saxons immediately ceased fighting and retreated back behind Hadrian's Wall. Tristan watched in confusion as the opposition raced past him and quickly vanished into the distance. While Bors yelled insults at the retreating Saxons, the other knights stood in stunned silence for a few moments and then began to regroup around Arthur, who galloped over to Tristan.

"Where is he?!" he shouted as he reined in his horse and leaped off while the horse skidded to a halt. He stumbled a bit with the abrupt change in momentum, but steadied himself and ran to Tristan's side. "Is he wounded badly?" He looked around quickly, and when Lancelot was nowhere to be found, he looked at Tristan, his eyes flaming with fear and panic. Tristan shook his head in disbelief.

"I don't know _where_ he is.... he was gone when I got here." Arthur stared at him for a moment and then spun to face the other knights. They all shook their heads as well.

"Haven't seen him since the beginning of the fight..." Gawain said.

"I saw him for a few moments..." Galahad said quietly "He was fighting like he always does..."

"Well scour the area, eyes open for any sign of him..." Arthur said. The others looked at one another, and didn't move.

"Arthur-"Dagonet began.

"No! I do not want to hear it-look for him before you condemn him!" His knights sighed and began to move slowly away from one another, stretching outwards in an ever-widening circle. After about an hour of careful wandering, they all came together again around Arthur, who was sitting on the wall, his head in his hands. "Anything?" he asked, his voice void of any hope. The men mumbled their negative responses and then stood in silence. Finally Bors spoke up, his voice gruff,

"Found these..." He held out Lancelot's swords to Arthur who raised his head and took them, placing them on the wall next to him. After a moment of silence he finally spoke, his voice full of grim determination.

"Well, if his body is not here, then he may still be alive. Saxons like slaves-that's probably one of the reasons they came...but Lancelot is sick-that's why he fell today and I blame myself for that." The knights protested that, but he held up his hand. "No, no I am the commander and I shouldn't have let him go. But what's done is done and cannot be undone...the point is that he's sick and a sick slave is of no use." He looked up at his men and spoke the next bleak words looking them all in the face. "They will probably kill him." He saw the expressions on their faces harden. They had lost comrades before, so they were preparing themselves for the worst. He got off the wall and stood before them. "I refuse to let that happen. I am proposing we go after him. This is not an order directly from Rome, so there is no oath binding you to this-"Bors let out a roar of rage.

"Course we're going! He'd do the same for us...besides, I'm not gonna let the little bugger have all the fun!" Arthur smiled and then looked at the rest of the men.

"And the rest of you?" he enquired and they nodded their agreement. "Thank you." He said, and couldn't help a wave of pride from washing over him. He moved through them and mounted his horse. "We have to move quickly...but first we ride back and get the others." His men nodded again and moved to get their own horses. Then turning and riding into the midday sun, they left the battlefield that had now become a graveyard for so many others. Arthur turned one last time to see the bodies strewn before Hadrian's Wall and prayed that Lancelot wouldn't be the next to join them...

ok, again, I know it was VERY short....I promise more and BETTER for next time!!

And now reviewer responses:

**Techno Snape**: Thankee kindly...even I'M not sure what he's gonna do to get Lancelot out of this predicament......but I do have a bit of an idea....and it should be good-thanks for reviewing!!!!

**Shauna**: Oh my you are so funny!! I know exactly how you feel because my computer crashed over the summer and I felt so detached from the world—and when I read your review, I was also sneaking some computer time during school, so I definitely knew where you were coming from. After I read your review I immediately began wrapping up this chapter. Everyone's review pushed me to update, but yours really pushed me over the edge-so thank you! Haha no rescue for Lancelot yet! You didn't think I let him outta trouble THIS easily, did you? And yes, he is a lot like Legolas (and co-incidently Ioan and Orlando are two of my favourite actors!!) hopefully you get more computer time soon...and hopefully I updated in time!!! Thanks so much for reviewing!!!

**Elventears**: Thank you for reviewing!....I hope my update didn't take too long...

**Szhismine: **hehe...eep is such a cute looking word...Thankya for reviewing!!!

**Allegra**: Thank you for saying that this is a "story worth continuing"...seriously, I am so insecure about my writing...lol...and yes, I know, I'm all about the cliffhangers!! Thanks so much for reviewing!!

**Unni**: No I do not want you dead!!! Haha yours was a funny review, so thank you for making me smile!! But I am sorry if you can't concentrate in school....but I can never concentrate in school, so at least we're there together! Sorry if this update wasn't very quick....or long.....I'll try to do better next time! Oh, and I always like to see Lancelot in trouble because then it leads to a fabulous rescue! He's so pretty we WANT to save him....anyways, THANKS for reviewing!!

**Goody: **Thanks so much for saying that the dialogue and stuff was good...when writing about characters from other movies or books, I always worry that I'm not portraying them correctly, so thanks!! And thank you for reviewing!!

**mrs jdhappiness: **Yes, yes I am evil...MUAHAHA!!...hehe sorry...I am sooo happy that you like my lancelot!! I love him aswell and put much love and work into recreating him!! Thanks for the review!!

**Disassociated: **The gushing is great, but I also love those who will tell me when something is wrong...and the thing is that I COMPLETELY agree with you....after I posted I read it over and thought it moved a little too fast....but I am pretty much a perfectionist when it comes to my writing, so I was wondering if anyone else thought that too. I think this one might move a little too fast too, but the upcoming chapters should be better....it's hard to write action because you don't want it to be boring....but I think that the last chapter might have come off a little cold, you know? Not enough depth into the characters......anyways, sorry to be venting this all out on you, but as I said, I am a perfectionist.......ANYWAYS, thanks so much for reviewing!!

**Freakazoid: **I know, I know about the whole "Lord" thing....my problem is that I've been reading Bernard Corwall's "Warlord Chronicles" (which is a trilogy about Arthur) and the knights in there are ALWAYS calling him Lord....so that kinda snuck into my writing....oops!! You may notice that there's none of that in this chapter..so thanks so much for pointing it out...I wanted to go the movie route instead of the book route so thanks!!

**Jemiul: **Thanks so much for reviewing!! Sorry if the update took a little long....I'll try to be quicker next time!!

**One and one is two: **The day is worth living!!?! That is the highest praise anyone has EVER given me!! So THANKS!!!

**Camlann: **You couldn't tell this was my first fan fiction?? YAY!!! Success! Thanks soooo much! And if you ever write a fanfiction of your own, let me know and I'll read it and review for you!! Oh, and as you might have noticed, Arthur is going to get the "others" meaning NEW knights!! That was thanks to you-you convinced me!! Thanks for reviewing!!

**Ivory Novelist**: hey again!! Ive already gushed all over you about how much I love your writing and thanking you for telling others about my story so I wont say any more........ok, one more time...THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

**xStarryEyedx: **ooOOooo I'm glad my writing got you riled up! That's what I'm here for! Hopefully this chapter answered all your questions...oh wait, maybe I don't want that.....because then you won't feel the need to read anymore! ....MUST....BE....MYSTERIOUS.........hehe anyways, thanks for reviewing!!!

I LOVE ALL OF YOU!!! THANKS AGAIN!!!!!


	3. Chapter Three

Author's Note: Hey! THANKS AGAIN TO ALL THE REVIEWS YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE SENT ME!!!!!!!!!! I truly love you all!! You see how quick this chapter came? wink wink, nudge nudge hehe unfortunately, because this chapter came so fast, I don't have time to write individual thanks to everyone, but to all of you, just know that you all made me sooooo happy and you all had a hand in making this chapter come faster!  
Again, this chapter is a bit on the short side, but I wanted to end it here because it just felt right in the way I have the entire story set up in my mind......I won't say any more, but trust me-it's better this way! This chapter features JUST Lancelot, but don't worry, the others are coming next time.... Hope you enjoy!!!!!!  
  
Chapter Three  
  
He awoke in a blur of semi-consciousness, jerking out from the oblivion of the dream world as one does when they realize something is wrong. After the initial panic wore off with his increasing awareness, he lay still and analyzed himself and his surroundings. The first thought that came to him was that he as cold. Once that thought appeared in his mind he realized that the cold was unbearable, a cold that penetrated his inner core and worked its way through his body- so much so that he felt as though he was radiating frosty air from his frozen bones.  
  
He realized then that he was lying on the ground without a blanket above or below him. The grass, covered in patches of snow, was soaking into his clothing, which was slowly being frozen by a chill wind that blew down from the night sky above him. It seemed his body had been dumped unceremoniously on the ground in between a fairly large campsite and the surrounding woods. His armor and weaponry had been stripped away, leaving him in sodden, half-frozen boots, trews and long sleeve tunic.  
  
The campsite seemed quiet, the low sound of numerous men slumbering at once drifting over to where he lay. Seeing no sentry on duty, or any man tending the fire, he decided it was his chance to escape. He sat up slowly, but once his head left the ground, it began to spin violently again. His stomach lurched and he felt himself immediately breakout into a sweat. He lay back down quickly and took a few deep breaths to calm his stomach. He had been so intent on the situation he was in that he completely forgot about the way he had been feeling that morning. He momentarily cursed his bad luck, and his pigheadedness-which got him into this predicament in the first place.  
  
After allowing his spinning head to slow, he rolled over and peered over to the campsite, his eyes slowly adjusting to the pitch-blackness of the night. With the aid of the flickering firelight, he was able to make out the silhouettes of the men he was sharing a campsite with. Above the forms of the men he saw a banner planted the hard, frozen soil. He squinted at it for a minute, trying to decipher what was on it, or what it was made out of. When he finally realized what it was he was looking at, he felt the need to retch again. The banner as mounted on a tall post that was crossed with a smaller post near its peak; similar to the cross he had seen so many Christians worship. But what was so horrific about cross was that it was draped with the skin of a human man.  
  
He stared at the dangling empty limbs, which were flapping sickly in the wind, and felt his stomach tie itself into a tight knot. Fear suddenly laid hold of him, its cold fingers wrapping closely around his heart and sending him into a moment of utter despair. The Saxons. He was a prisoner of the Saxons.  
  
When dawn's golden fingers touched the black sky, pushing away the night, he had come no closer to finding a way out of this black state of affairs. He had attempted to escape once more during the night, but aside from his worsening sickness, he had found that his leg was shackled to a nearby tree, dashing his remaining hopes that this nightmare might end before it had even really begun. But now he found himself fighting to stay warm and to remain conscious and wondering what new horrors the day would bring.  
  
It was not long until the Saxons had roused themselves and began to eat. He dragged him self into a sitting position and leaned against a tree, swearing to himself that he would not lose his dignity and would remain defiant throughout the ordeals to come. As he sat and watched his captors sluggishly stuff themselves, he felt a heavy wheezing build itself up in his chest. He tried to resist the urge, but finally it over came him and he doubled over in a bought of racking coughs. When it finally subsided and he looked up, he realized that he had attracted some attention. The men nearest to him were looking more awake and one of them stood and walked over to him. As the Saxon drew close, Lancelot felt his heart sink. He recognized this man. This was the last face he saw before he had passed out on the battlefield. The man whose brother he had killed.  
  
"Feeling any better Princess?" The man asked him in strongly accented British. Lancelot swallowed hard and raised his chin an inch.  
  
"Not really actually. You wouldn't happen to have any soup?" The Saxon stared at him for a moment and then lashed out and struck him hard across the face. Lancelot's head reeled and he stuck his arms out beside him to prevent himself from tumbling over to the ground. As he stared at the ground, attempting to stop his vision from whirling in circles, the Saxon crouched down in front of him.  
  
"You took my brother's life. Now you will spend the rest of yours making up for that mistake." He stood and addressed the rest of the Saxons. "This man's life is mine. If any of you hear him speak out of line again," he glanced back at Lancelot, a cold smile spreading across his face, before turning back to the men and saying, "you have my permission to take his life." He raised his voice to a loud shout. "What's mine is yours-this man killed many of our own, and so he serves all of us!" The others roared their approval and the Saxon turned back to Lancelot, who looked up at him defiantly. "My name is Osric. Learn it well boy-I'm your master now." And he struck Lancelot again (to the joy of his comrades), before striding back to his breakfast, leaving Lancelot's head spinning and his soul darkening with despair.  
  
There you have it!! Review please please with sugar on top!! Thankee kindly....yes, a long thanksgiving weekend with the family HAS driven me mad..... 


	4. Chapter Four

AUTHOR'S NOTE: AHHHH!!! THANK YOU AGAIN TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED!! Well, I'm here again, and apologizing for the lateness of this entry. University has been absolutely CRAZY lately, and I haven't had much time to write. On the upside, I recently discovered a guy in my history class who looks EXACTLY like Galahad…or Hugh Dancy as Galahad…I guess it depends on what reality you're living in…anyways, he is identical, and I must say that I have been attempting to sit closer to him….but I digress! I'm sorry if this chapter is a little void of action….Its purpose is to introduce some of my new characters…so I apologize if your favourite is overlooked for the moment, but I had the urge to add some newbies. Just a note on pronunciation, Derfel is actually pronounced Der-VEL…and yes, I did steal that character from Cornwall's "Warrior Chronicles"…but I changed him somewhat for my purposes…and also, Eboracum was an actual place in Northern England ca 500, and its ruler really was named Cunedda Wledig…but knowing absolutely nothing about him, I have totally fictionalized him…anyways, here is Chapter 4……

Chapter Four

The snow fell wet and heavy as they rode back into Eboracum; a small fortress town, and also the only inhabitable city within miles of Hadrian's Wall. Its ruler, Lord Cunedda Wledig, had come in person to plead with Arthur to come and aid his people, who were being ravaged by the raiding Saxons. Consent from Rome had allowed him to, and now he wished that consent had never come-or that Cunedda had never arrived to tell him of his plight.

The whirling grey flakes of snow greeted him like old friends, matching his inner turmoil, his shame and worry, his anger at himself. And every second that passed was another second he left Lancelot's fate in the hands of the Saxons. They rode in silence up to the front of Cunedda's steading, his men matching his grim demeanor. Leaning against the great wooden double doors that led into the feasting hall was a medium sized man with long fair hair and beard and a warrior's build. The sight of him made Arthur relax slightly, and when the man saw Arthur, he slowly straightened and threw down the piece of wood he had been meticulously carving and sheathed his small dagger.

Arthur reigned his horse in before the man and dismounted. The two stood looking at each other for a moment, the man's light blue eyes penetrating into Arthur's deep brown, and after a moment the man spoke.

"What happened?" Arthur didn't say anything and allowed the man to scan the other knights, who were still seated on their horses. The piercing blue of his eyes flickered across all of their hardened faces and noted the one that was missing. He looked back to Arthur, "Lancelot?" Arthur refrained from wincing at the sound of the name, and nodded. The man nodded simply and then inquired, "Is he dead?" Arthur paused a moment and then spoke finally,

"Taken…but we don't know if he's alive or not." The man nodded his fair

head and then said,

"So when do we move out?" Arthur smiled and embraced his friend.

"How do you make me feel better with such limited words Derfel?" Derfel returned the embrace and shrugged as he took the reigns of Arthur's mount.

"What happened?' he asked as he and Arthur and the other knights walked their horses over to the large stable that stood opposite to the great hall.

As Arthur explained the happenings of the morning, Derfel nodded solemnly and registered no surprised at anything his commander told him. The middle-aged man was a hardened warrior, and one of the first knights to come to Arthur. Aside from Lancelot, Derfel was his most trusted confidant, besides being a terror on the battlefield. His preferred weapon of choice was a huge long sword, and many men had tasted its sting and not lived to tell the tale. When Arthur had finished going over the bloody morning he and the other knights had experienced, Derfel simply nodded and continued brushing down Arthur's horse as Arthur put away his tack and saddle.

"Well, he very well might be alive…" he commented after a few moments had allowed him to absorb the story. "Saxons always like a good slave."

"Not that Lancelot would make a good slave," Dagonet said from the next stall, "Boy's too proud."

"In which case, we should probably leave as soon as possible." Arthur stated, addressing all of his men. "One nights sleep and then we ride tomorrow." He paused, waiting for his men to acknowledge this news. When they had, he continued, "I will ask Cunedda for men, but I doubt he will be willing to spare any after his people have been terrorized for the past months. So again I will give you the choice of refusing this mission. An army of Saxons against the eight of us is not the fairest of odds, but we have the advantage of experience and-"

"Arthur," Derfel interrupted, making Arthur brake off and look at him in confusion.

"What?"

"There is only seven of us here… you haven't told him yet…" Arthur looked at him in surprise and then around the stable

"I forgot all about the little bugger!" Bors exclaimed, and the others nodded in surprised agreement. Arthur looked back to Derfel, his expression hardened again in the anticipation of what he must go and do now.

"Derfel, where is Mathurin?" Derfel reflected his commander's countenance and gruffly answered,

"In the Hall."

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The atmosphere in the Great Hall differed in everyway from the outside. A fire blazed in the enormous hearth behind the large dais where Lord Cunedda, his wife, and the elders and other nobility sat feasting. Down the sides of the hall were two long wooden tables where Cunedda's men stuffed themselves and elbowed each other in attempts to get the better cut of meat. The air was filled with smoke, the smell of hot food, and general jubilation. Everyone believed that the coming of Arthur signaled the end of the Saxons, and after months of torment and death, they were ready to celebrate something.

When the large double door opened and Arthur and his men strode through, they were not immediately noticed. The lighting was dim within, despite the torches in brackets lining the walls, and the enormous fire at the far end of the hall. Though no one took notice of them at first, Arthur instantly saw Mathurin amongst the other men sitting in the table on the left side of the hall.

Mathurin, being the same age as Galahad, was the youngest of all Arthur's knights. Though he and Galahad shared their year of birth, that was where the similarities ended. Galahad was imprinted with a stoic sense of responsibility, and an intense longing for his home. He felt his services to Rome to be an imprisonment-and he hated the fact that he was forced to kill on behalf of an Empire that he didn't belong to.

Mathurin, on the other hand, had no sense of responsibility, and was more of a wild animal. He felt no attachments to his home, because he felt he had no home to go to. When the Roman soldiers had gone to call him into service, they had discovered a small wiry boy, who cringed from their touch and whose steadily blackening eye was a sign of having been beaten earlier that day. There was no fierce cry of hope from his family as he rode away from their tiny home. In truth, his family had not even said goodbye to him. They simply went about their daily jobs, and felt relieved that there was one less mouth to feed. This detachment from his Sarmatian roots gave him a greater freedom then the other knights experienced, with the possible exception of Tristan, who had no attachments to anyone or anything. But Mathurin differed from Tristan aswell, because while the older man was more of a lone wolf, Mathurin craved attention, and usually wanted attention from women. And women were more then willing to give it to him.

While many of the knights were seen as handsome by the bevy of women they met in their travels, Mathurin had a kind of inherent beauty that none of the other knights possessed-except for Lancelot. He had straight black hair that he wore in short waves around his face, and his deep blue eyes stood out against his pale skin and dark hair like gems. He had come a long way from the frail and skinny boy he once was, and now he was tall and lithely muscular, and more then able to hold his own on the battlefield. The other knights thought of him as a protégé of Lancelot's, and indeed he had attached onto Lancelot more then any of the others-which was why Arthur was hesitant to step any farther into the hall.

Taking a breath, he walked over to Mathurin's table, where serving girls were doting on the young man. When the knight saw his commander, he raised his glass in a toast,

"Arthur! Come join us!" Arthur pulled up in front of the table with his men in tow and shook his head.

"Come outside," he said simply, not wanting to discuss anything with him in the middle of a feast. The young man shook his head and smiled, gesturing to the girl pouring more mead into his glass.

"I'm a little busy right now actually…" and he winked at the others and smiled. Arthur didn't return the smile.

"Come outside Mathurin." He repeated again, this time allowing the heaviness and angst of his heart to creep into his voice. He saw so much of Lancelot in the young man in front of him, and it broke his heart to think of where Lancelot was now, and what he must be going through. Hearing the tone of Arthur's voice, the smile slipped off Mathurin's face and he set his drink down heavily.

"What?" he asked quietly, his eyes searching Arthur's for a clue to what was about to be said.

"Just come outside-" Arthur repeated, but Mathurin cut him off by leaping to his feet, causing the serving girl next to him to drop her pitcher. The shattering of porcelain rose above the din and attracted stares from those sitting nearby.

"No!" Mathurin shouted, completely oblivious to the broken object at his feet, the liquid seeping into his boots. "Just tell me now," he said, somewhat quieter, seeing the look on Arthur's face and knowing his commander did not react well to being shouted at.

The commotion had alerted Cunedda to Arthur's presence in his hall, and he shouted above the many voices,

"Lord Arthur! What news? Have you driven the Saxon vermin out of our land yet?" A roar of approval from his men greeted his words, and Arthur stepped forward into the middle of the Hall, where there were no tables, only open space making him the center of attention.

"My Lord," he said, giving a small bow of the head to the man seated in the middle of the dais before him. "We found the Saxons and fought them, wounding and killing many…" He glanced over to where his knights were watching him, most with stony expressions, knowing what he was about to say. Mathurin watched him with a guarded stare, not knowing what he was going to say but knowing that it was not good news.

Cunedda, a great bear of a man, overflowing with thick curly hair and large animal skins looked at him expectantly.

"The Saxons retreated." Arthur continued, "and we plan to follow them tomorrow." A murmur broke out amongst the inhabitants of the hall and Cunedda vocalized what they all wanted to know,

"But if they retreated, why follow?" Cunedda asked, "They'll go to where their numbers are larger-you'll be walking into a death sentence!" The people of the great hall quieted and looked at Arthur, wondering what his answer would be, wondering if some great madness had over taken him.

"My Lord," Arthur answered, "One of my men was taken by the Saxons." He glanced over to his men and saw Mathurin's eyes quickly look over the other knights and his face blanche when he saw that Lancelot was not among them.

"One man!?" Cunedda sputtered in disbelief, "You would risk your life, the lives of the rest of your knights for _one man_?" A loud thump and clatter followed his question and Arthur turned to see Mathurin storm out of the hall in long strides. He sighed. This was not how he wished for him to find out. He turned back to Cunedda.

"I cannot ask for you to understand, but I cannot leave this man to suffer slavery and death at the hands of the Saxons. I wouldn't do it to him, I wouldn't do it to any of my men. I am going after him tomorrow, whether you will help me or not." He bowed slightly again and left the silent hall amidst the trail of stares and grieved thoughts of many that their savior was now walking into certain death.

When he pushed the doors open and stepped out into the frosty air again, he saw Mathurin's figure standing a few feet away in the waning winter twilight. His back was to him and his shoulders were hunched down dejectedly. Arthur reached out a hand to place on the young knight's shoulder, but as soon as he made contact with his tunic, Mathurin jerked away like a wounded animal and spun to face his leader.

"Why did you do it?" He snarled, his brilliant eyes flashing. Arthur dropped his hand to his side and calmly asked,

"Do what?" He had fully expected rage from Lancelot's pseudo younger brother, so he was prepared to take any accusations in stride.

"Why did you make me stay behind!?" He raged, "I could have helped you! Maybe he wouldn't have been taken…" His voice dropped and he turned away again.

"I made you and Derfel stay behind because there was a chance that the Saxon's might work around us, and come back here to sac the town…I needed to know that the town would be safe at least in part." He answered quietly. Mathurin remained silent for a while and then spoke again with his back still turned.

"What happened? Why was he captured?" Arthur sighed. He was tired of relating the story.

"He was sick, he fell, he was caught while he was unconscious." Mathurin turned back to him,

"He was sick? And you made him fight?" Arthur gave him a pointed look

"We both know how stubborn he is…" Mathurin nodded, his handsome face twisted into a frown. Arthur placed his hands on the shoulders in front of him.

"We are going to get him back." Mathurin nodded and allowed Arthur to pull him back into the warmth of the hall. While the previous events had put a damper somewhat on the night's festivities, it is difficult to bring drunken men into the reality of a situation. So as Arthur and his men quietly ate their dinner, laughter rang out around them, making everything that had happened in the long, dreary day seem very surreal. Arthur could not help but hear his words echoing through his ears, and doubt them. As a wash of desperation filled him he wondered if they would ever get him back. And if any of them would make it back out alive.

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Well, there you have it! Next up: More hard times for Lancelot….

Now pleeeeease review and make my next week of exams more enjoyable!! PLEASE!!! I'm gonna need SOMETHING to cheer me up!!


	5. Chapter Five

Author's Note: okay, I know I've been gone a VERY long time, and I just wanted to take this moment to apologize for that. I know how it is when I'm enjoying a story and the author takes FOREVER to update, so I can understand how frustrated you all must be with me right now, and I also understand if no one out there is interested in this story anymore. The good news is I've updated, and plan on updating more frequently! The bad news is that the updates will not be long ones (as you'll see in this chapter). I was in a pretty brutal car accident that really messed up my back, and so have been forced to not use the computer for typing for about 2 months. I can sit and type now, but not for extended periods of time-hence the short chapters...There is a chance I will recover soon, and be able to do almost everything I could before, but I have to take it easy for now...but you probably don't want to hear my sob story, so I'll stop now!

THANKS TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED!! You really have no idea how wonderful it was to come back and find all of your wonderful messages waiting for me. You guys really pushed me to get back into writing, so this chapter is dedicated to the following-you helped me more then you'll ever know:

Gryffendor-seeker, excaliber2, ellelovemax, szhismine, celeb5, lusiphina, goody (no, I just found the name Mathurin from an index of old Sarmatian names...I haven't got the chance to see master and commander yet, so I found that so funny that someone in the movie has that name!!), brokenskye, Kristen z, allegra, Xcaliber, HGandRHforever, Jemiul, and Shauna (I always love your reviews so much, you are too funny!! :) )

Alright, here's chapter five for everyone who's been kind enough to come back and read...

Chapter Five

For the third time he slipped and fell, and for the third time he struggled to his knees, and then to his feet again. Breathing hard, he felt the frosted air pierce his lungs and was aware that if he fell a fourth time, he would not be able to get up on his own again. His hands were bound behind his back with thick, coarse twine, and propelling him forward was another piece of twine looped round his neck and attached to the pommel of Osric's horse. The first time he had fallen he had lain immobile for a moment, trying to catch his breath, but the Saxon had simply kept riding-if anything, he rode faster. His throat still burned from where the twine had cut into his flesh as Osric dragged him along the uneven frozen ground, slowly strangling him until he had hoarsely shouted for him to stop.

Osric had stopped that first time, and turned his horse around to ride back to where Lancelot lay gasping for breath, which was coming in painful mouthfuls past his flaming throat. The brute stood above his prone figure and smiled sadistically, coiling the now slack twine around his gloved hand.

"What was that?" concentrating solely on getting oxygen into his body, Lancelot didn't answer, and once Osric grew tired of waiting for a response he sharply pulled the twine lead. Lancelot gave out a strangled cry of protest as his head was violently yanked up, cutting in again into the soft flesh of his neck, and he struggled to move to his knees to loosen the strain on his neck. As he floundered in the snow, fighting for breath- fighting for life- Osric leaned down on his horse and spoke in an eerily calm voice.

"What...was...that?" Knowing that the only way to end this horrific episode was to play along, Lancelot finally choked out

"I-I asked you to stop-" Osric cut off his words with a sharp jerk of the cord, and leaned back in his saddle. Contrasting his aggressively violent behavior with a few light tisks, as though he was reprimanding a small child, Osric spoke again,

"You forgot something," Growing steadily more angry and frustrated with the situation, Lancelot sat seething with anger trying to think of what he could have possibly forgot. When it came to him, his eyes sparked with hateful fire, and he glared up at the Saxon above him, who saw the realization in Lancelot's eyes and smiled cruelly down. "Well?" He inquired. Lancelot could feel the malicious grins of the other Saxons who had stopped to watch the confrontation; he felt their joy at his misery like brands on his skin. He ignored them, directing all of his hate toward the man in front of him. He knew what Osric wanted him to say, the word burned with acid in his mouth and his pride kept it there.

Unfortunately pride can be conquered with physical pain, and with another jarring rip at his neck, Lancelot spit the word out, every fiber of his being telling him not to, and every fiber of his hating himself for giving into his bodily pain.

"Master," he said harshly, hanging his head in shame. But the Saxon wouldn't let it go at that. He pulled the rope again and called for him to speak up. And again compelled to do so through physical pain, he shouted the word, the word that encompassed everything he hated, the word that finalized the loss of his freedom.

"MASTER!" Osric smiled and let the rope go slack, and the other Saxons laughed, the sound of which was a dagger into his wounded pride. He sat motionless, every inch of himself radiating hate and fury. He wanted to rip through his bonds and slaughter every single one of them. But instead he looked darkly up at Osric, whose grin had grown wider and who said loudly to the men listening,

"You see? Any dog can be broken!" As the Saxon army roared with laughter and began to walk again, he turned to Lancelot again, and barked at him to get on his feet, before riding forward, allowing the rope to slowly straighten out, and forcing Lancelot to scramble to his feet to avoid being strangled again. He had fallen again, it was inevitable, but he had learned to get up quickly before the rope could be pulled taut. But now after the last fall he began to realize that he wouldn't last much longer. His rage had been chilled with the cold, and now all he cared about was living to see another day. They had not given him back his cloak or armor, so nothing stood between his bare skin and the deathly cold but a thin wool shirt. On top of the fact that he was painfully freezing to death, was the realization that he was not well.

He knew now that he should not have fought the battle at Hadrian's Wall, that he should have listened to Arthur when he told him to stay behind, and now he mentally cursed his pride and self-assuredness. But there wasn't much time for mental berating, because his mind had suddenly become very light and muddled. He found he couldn't think very clearly and his eyes were become bleary from more then the cold.

He blinked drowsily to clear his vision as he stumbled along through the snow, desperately trying to put one foot in front of the other. Suddenly now everything seemed to be clearly defined, as though he was seeing the world under a bright light. Beads of sweat escaped from with his mass of black curls and trickled down his forehead. He coughed and wheezed and tried to breath, but slowly felt his chest constricting. He struggled to remain upright, but felt himself falling forward. The world shone even brighter for one quick moment before blackening as he slipped away from it.

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See, I told you is was short :S if you still want me to continue, let me know and I will update asap...if no one's interested I'll take the hint...it might burn the ego a bit, but it'll give me time to rest my back... :) sorry again for the wait...


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